s love. So he waited
patiently for the day when he might venture to say, 'Caterina, I love
you!' You see, he would have been content with very little, being one of
those men who pass through life without making the least clamour about
themselves; thinking neither the cut of his coat, nor the flavour of his
soup, nor the precise depth of a servant's bow, at all momentous. He
thought--foolishly enough, as lovers _will_ think--that it was a good
augury for him when he came to be domesticated at Cheverel Manor in the
quality of chaplain there, and curate of a neighbouring parish; judging
falsely, from his own case, that habit and affection were the likeliest
avenues to love. Sir Christopher satisfied several feelings in installing
Maynard as chaplain in his house. He liked the old-fashioned dignity of
that domestic appendage; he liked his ward's companionship; and, as
Maynard had some private fortune, he might take life easily in that
agreeable home, keeping his hunter, and observing a mild regimen of
clerical duty, until the Cumbermoor living should fall in, when he might
be settled for life in the neighbourhood of the manor. 'With Caterina for
a wife, too,' Sir Christopher soon began to think; for though the good
Baronet was not at all quick to suspect what was unpleasant and opposed
to his views of fitness, he was quick to see what would dovetail with his
own plans; and he had first guessed, and then ascertained, by direct
inquiry, the state of Maynard's feelings. He at once leaped to the
conclusion that Caterina was of the same mind, or at least would be, when
she was old enough. But these were too early days for anything definite
to be said or done.

Meanwhile, new circumstances were arising, which, though they made no
change in Sir Christopher's plans and prospects, converted Mr. Gilfil's
hopes into anxieties, and made it clear to him not only that Caterina's
heart was never likely to be his, but that it was given entirely to
another.

Once or twice in Caterina's childhood, there had been another boy-visitor
at the manor, younger than Maynard Gilfil--a beautiful boy with brown
curls and splendid clothes, on whom Caterina had looked with shy
admiration. This was Anthony Wybrow, the son of Sir Christopher's
youngest sister, and chosen heir of Cheverel Manor. The Baronet had
sacrificed a large sum, and even straitened the resources by which he was
to carry out his architectural schemes, for the sake of removing the
ent